I hate cuh-lahs

Colors. ugghhhh...where to start?
When I was little I used to love them. I had oranges and reds, purples and greens. There was even a blue period, a la Picasso, that spanned several years and was saturated with shades of turquoise, cerulean and navy.
When I was a club kid my days were filled with neon pinks and greens...strangely enough my skin did not burn when they touched it.

Somewhere along the way black took over my life. The last decade has been black. True, there were attempts at color which consisted of bronze, olive, mocha, and white. There was exactly one red dress (worn twice).

Black is classic. It is slimming, sophisticated, dark...perhaps a bit intimidating? It's always so easy to pack and mix and match your outfits when everything is black. And believe me, I do mean EVERYTHING. It is Chanel and Maison Martin Margiela and Rick Owens and McQueen...

I like my style...I think it is truly mine, somewhat reflective of certain trends but not overtly "fashion slave."
                                     modern, asymmetric...CLEAN. 
                     Black is the absence of color and is thus as clean as it can get.

I don't exactly know why but lately I have been craving color. Perhaps the changes in my life have heralded a shift in my outlook...perhaps the incessant barrage from Vogue has finally gotten to me.

Aesthetically colors are pleasing. They are wild and loud and elicit happiness...in some people. I, much like a moth to a flame, approach colorful things with apprehension yet without control. I try them on...I yearn to like them...but every time they are in my proximity they make me feel strange. Unnerving perhaps. They do not make me happy, they do not quite look like they did in my mind and they certainly don't integrate with my general appearance.

Last week I decided to grit my teeth and power through my fear and intimidation of this palette and I went on a mission to find COLOR. Countless hours and stores later I am in possession of one blindingly bright neon green jacket, pastel blue skinny jeans, coral nail polish and a cerulean mini skirt. I also managed to find a long forgotten intense violet silk mini-dress that may make the cut.

                                      I can do this. I can do THIS. I want to do this. 
Because people that wear color seem ok...they seem happy, and approachable, and perhaps even, interesting.


I will never and physically cannot abandon black. But at this time I feel a bit oppressed by it...trapped in its' grip - unable to move away from looking like a black cat...

I want to play in the sun with the happy kids...even if I'll end up sarcastically smirking at them from a shadowy corner. Bring on the Dali period...

A lazy morning

Day in Paris #3:

Today you woke up later then expected...perhaps it was because the rain drops softly thumped on the window pane lulling you to a dreamy haze...the sky is overcast but it is warm and breezy.

You grab a cup of coffee and head for a walk along the Seine. To some this is probably just a river. It can be a bit stagnant and sometimes murky. There are no sunbathers or row boats filled with Wasp-y graduates  in their pastel polos. An occasional riverboat slowly waddles by carrying along tourists taking pictures of every foot.

It is just a river you say. But you keep walking...each of the 37 bridges along the Seine are different..interesting...unique in their construction and appeal.
The Invalides bridge is spectacular.
You walk along the river past Notre Dame and cannot help but marvel at how beautiful "goth" can be. Pont Neuf peaks your curiosity..in the distance you get a peak of La Tour Eiffel.

You browse the books and art from centuries past that is sold by the bank on Sundays. Here perfectly preserved 18th century anatomy pages neighbor Marilyn Monroe kitchen magnets and post cards from the 20's. The banks are filled with people...couples in love, couple in rage, families.. and loners like you.

You don't notice but as you walk and stare at the water memories flood your consciousness. You feel fleeting sadness and happiness, nostalgic for a time that seems perfect through the looking glass of time. You feel calm and strangely happy.
This is the Paris not everyone will see. This Paris does not intimidate you with it's cornucopia of lights and sounds...it is softer. Unobtrusive in it's elegance. Confident in it's timeless perfection.

This water has flown through these walls for centuries. It has seen flourishing kingdoms and gruesome revolutions...it has been saturated with blood and memories and managed to absorb them seamlessly beneath its weight. It is magnetic.
Strangely, you feel inspired to write something...anything...to capture this mood because you know that as soon as you walk away the hectic world will engulf you again and this brief glimpse into your own self will fade under the mandane tasks of the everyday.
You take a picture hoping that looking at it will remind you what you felt that day. How you were just walking along a river in this beautiful city enjoying a simple lazy morning...

peine de coeur

I comforted a friend with a broken heart today...seeing her pain reminded me of all the times my heart was broken. Of all the past romances that, even now, cause a twinge of regret...even shame...Remembering all the mistakes that were made along the way is not pleasant. Remembering how the world crashed down and  a pain took over that was so big it was hard to breathe or to get out of bed in the morning....still makes me sad.

Love is what human beings have in common. It is our basic instinct..our need. We love our parents, our friends, our siblings. We yearn to be loved. And when we love we gain an understanding of ourselves that cannot be gained otherwise.


Do you remember your first heartbreak?

Only when you live through that emotional devastation do all those songs/poems/movies make sense. When you truly loved...completely, selflessly loved...
When you reveled in longing someone so badly nothing else mattered..
When you nursed your unrequited feelings like a precious icon... because that pain made you alive? Made you FEEL life?

Remember those times when your love was returned? When the world took your breath away and every day...EVERY DAY...was amazing. The electricity you felt with each touch...each kiss?



As I drive home from another exhausting day all my past romances pass by. They left their mark but they are shadows now.
I hear our song...I feel him near me. I smile because he loves me so well.

Whether your loves have been beautifully tragic or truly fulfilling they mattered. Love makes us human. Even if sometimes they don't lead to a happy ending.
Amor fati, right?

today...

My old man is a bad man
But I can't deny the way he holds my hand
And he grabs me, he has me by my heart
He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past
He doesn't mind I have a L.A crass way about me
He loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart

Swimming pool
Glimmering darling
White bikini off with my red nail polish
Watch me in the swimming pool
Bright blue ripples, you
Sitting sipping on your black crystal, oh yeah

Light of my life, fire in my loins
Be a good baby, do what I want
Light of my life, fire in my loins
Gimme them gold coins
Gimme them coins

And I'm off to the races, races
Up Bacardi chases
Chasing me all over town
Cause he knows i'm wasted,
Facing time again at Riker's Island
And I won't get out

Because I'm crazy, baby
I need you to come here and save me
I'm your little scarlet, starlet
Singing in the garden,
Kiss me on my open mouth
Ready for you

My old man is, a tough man
But he got a soul as sweet as blood red jam
And he shows me, he knows me every inch of my tar black soul
He doesn't mind I have a flat broke down life
In fact he says he thinks it's what he might like about me, admires me
The way I roll like a rolling stone

Likes to watch me in the glass room, bathroom
Chateau Marmont
Slipping on my red dress, putting on my make up
Glass film, perfume, cognac, lilac,
Fume, says it feels like heaven to him

Light of his life, fire of his loins
Keep me forever, tell me you want me
Light of your life, fire of your loins
Tell me you want me, gimme them coins

And I'm off to the races, races
Up Bacardi chases
Chasing me all over town

                                       

                     

Escaping from the world...

It is finally here. We are off to the Paris of Latin America...Buenos Aires. No phones, no email (ok limited email), lazy mornings lounging in bed and late nights filled with wine and dancing. Just us...

Although we never make definitive plans a few key items are definitely on the itinerary.
Teatro Colon? Claro que si!

And, of course, knowing me, a trip to La Recoleta.
Stunning, isn't it??  I cannot wait to see who lives here. And the sculptures are going to be spectacular.

Being fiendish lovers of anything modern we will definitely spend one day here:

MALBA. (giddy face!)

There will also be several underground tango clubs, foodie adventures and many a wine tasting.

I so desperately need this. I want to get away. 

To forget what I do and where I come from.

To be in love and nothing else. 

To get lost in a strange city...to emerse myself into a place full of colors and sounds and exuberant LIFE.

Travel reminds you that this world is unbelievably big. It is incredible, infinitely amusing and glorious. To travel is to LIVE.
If I could not travel I don't think my life would be worth living. It is that important. And though I do not travel as much as I would like now, when I am done with my training, I shall take off on trips every chance I get. It is a necessity, a basic need. The experiences and memories gained from stepping outside one's boundaries cannot be substituted or replaced. 

The warm wind is blowing through the car window...the music fills the air...a plane is waiting to whisk me far far away to a beautiful country. PURR.

A bittersweet day...

I truly love this song. It is so exquisitely beautiful. I love hearing it when I am sad...when I need a release but I cannot scream. It makes me have hope again...even though the lyrics are quite depressing. 

It is my mom's favorite as well. It has always been her song. And when I hear it I hear her voice in my head...and I hope again that everything might just be alright tomorrow. 

Cause it's a bitter sweet symphony this life..
Trying to make ends meet, you're a slave to the money then you die. 
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down...
You know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet yeah...

                                No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,
                                         But I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold.
                                     But I'm a million different people from one day to the next...
                                           I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no,no, no

                                        Well I've never prayed, but tonight I'm on my knees, yeah.
                                    I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah.
                                     I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now.
                                   But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now.


                                    No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,
                                         But I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold.
                                     But I'm a million different people from one day to the next...
                                           I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no,no, no


Have you ever been down? 
I can't change, I can't change...


                                                 Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life. 
                                  Trying to make ends meet, trying to find somebody then you die.

Jardin de Luxembourg

A day in Paris #2:


Built in 1611 by Marie de Medici in an homage to the Pitti Palace in her native Florence. It initially contained a fountain built by Salomon de Brosse and 2000 elm trees. 

When you first come to Paris do NOT go here first. This place...it must be savored. You must come here when the beauty of the city overwhelms you and you feel that if you see another magnificent palace or quaint street you will explode from being overjoyed. (run-on? def. moving on.)

When you first walk in you BREATHE. It is quiet despite being quite vast. It is completely filled with people, all the time, yet it never feels crowded. It is stunning. Bar none, you will never see a more beautiful park (yes, including Central Park).

The foliage is perfectly groomed but in that way models off duty look - perfection without trying. There are sculptures and art installations dispersed throughout. They change frequently and they are always amusing.

My favorite part is the pond. (Not the OTHER pond - that one is surrounded by thick aged oaks and is the perfect place for a picnic and a good book). I like the open pond. It always has the most visitors and you are lucky if you can snag a chair. It has not changed since Louis XV...oh what I would give to stroll by it then...amazing ball gown glistening in the sun while I listen to a poem written for me by an admirer.  

                                                                          Sigh.   haha

                               The pink light is here in all its glory. The whole place is drenched in an ethereal pink luminescence that takes your breath away. This is coming from a misantrope! It is just...so...perfect. How terribly lucky the French are - to be able to sneak away to this place during lunch...or even walk through it on the way home...you would not dare to say you've had a bad day.


I miss this place painfully...I miss Paris. It is the only place that makes me melancholy and happy at the same time. Perhaps next year I'll return...

It girl

Angie...the Jolie...Santa Angelina. 

My friends have always laughed at my, semi-unhealthy, obsession with her. I figured it's time to give a little background (not a rebuttal to the un-healthiness in the least haha).

I first saw Angelina in "Gia." Contrary to what others may believe I did not love her then. I loved her acting, her incredible raw talent and unbelievable beauty, yes, but not HER. At a time when every tabloid and gossip site reveled in the perfection that was "Jolie" I could not fathom why a person so clearly broken would be applauded and admired. That is..until I became broken myself. Perhaps it was because I saw so much of myself in her actions that I shunned her image and ridiculed her...

Have you seen "Hackers"? Changed my life. (you laugh, but you have those movies too, admit it.) I wore the outfits, copied the make-up...hell, i STILL wear that silver ring on my index finger. I can see every frame of that movie when I close my eyes...
                                She was an alien. No human could ever be that beautiful...that talented...and so dark.

As she grew up so did I...and I truly (am not being facetious) began to admire her. To be a single mother at a time when men would literally die for a chance to spend the night with her...to choose to be alone for the sake of a child that changed her life...was unusual. Unexpected.

To travel the world, and slowly, begin to change those horrible places filled with unmentionable nightmares for the better...without publicity or self-preservation...you may not like her but you have to admire her "balls" so to speak.
To finally find love in  a man who is truly an equal. To show that strong and smart and beautiful can, and do, co-exist and should not be dismissed.

To show those like me that life can be dark, can be painful and sickening...but it can also transform into something...B.I.G. Bigger than your own selfish self. Bigger than what one life can offer. Even if you came from the most desolate corners...

                        Broken can be useful.
                                           Broken can be strong.
                                                      Broken can be loved and love back in a grand way.

I emulate...I shall not lie to you about that. I hope to become bigger than what I initially expected of myself. I want to be a GOOD human.

We all need role models. Whether it is our parents ( and mine is amazing), our friends, sports heroes, or actors...we seek what we adore and emulate by example. It is a basic human instinct. This is mine. A wild, often misunderstood, beautiful woman...who I hope won't fade away for a very long time.

Bonne année et bonne santé

I hope you are spending it with someone you love...whether it's a quiet night or a night barely remembered in the morning, may it mark the beginning of a year filled with happiness, adventure and lots of surprises.

I am off to Vegas to welcome New Year with my love. Let the red champagne flow...

Perfectly content to be permanently broken

Interesting thought isn't it? Alas this is not mine.
Not stated to elicit pity or condolences, nor to invite comparisons. Just a statement of a truth that once was mine.

Brief moment of truth? Your worst boyfriend? I dated him. For reasons that would require this blog to become the Volumes I, II, and III of Bella's life we shall not go into this in detail. Let's just say that short of being physically abused I have experienced every possible low one can experience in a relationship.

                                        Does that leave a mark? I'm sure. But it DOES NOT preclude happiness. 

When I grew up ( to the extent that merits people calling you "ma'am" and getting a job where maturity makes a differences between life and death) I had resolved myself to living alone. I knew I would continue to have relationships...have many friends in my life...perhaps even a child.. No, definitely a child. But I would never have someone who truly loved me. I would never seek shelter in the arms of a man who loved me. I would never have someone to pick up the pieces when my world crashed down. There would never be a wedding.

To reiterate, I am not telling you this to elicit pity or empathy, just my thoughts at the time.
I never thought my life would be particularly empty or somehow unfulfilled if I never became part of a couple. (i'm not trying to sound like a traitor to my gen...boys make life better, blah blah blah...not true in the least! But this one does and this is MY story so deal with it.)

Happiness is a funny thing isn't it? For someone not used to experiencing true happiness...(oh God i am actually using this word)...it creeps in quietly. Slowly. It sort of buffers every day to be a little softer. A little less gut wrenching or devastating. Because when you come home happiness is waiting. With a glass of wine, that handsome smile and arms that could make the world stop spinning, it is waiting.

For one disillusioned with love to find that a man can love completely and utterly as deeply as you is shocking. To love you how you have only read in books...not with grand gestures (though they are there) but with those little every day moments that let you know that EVERY SINGLE SECOND someone loves you.
                                          They love every broken and not broken piece of you. They NOTICE every detail of you that even you may not have thought was special. They fight for you until their last breath and when you hurt they hurt as much as you.
                And oh my goodness how his kisses take my breath away every time! Hell, even the way he looks at me across a room...time stands still when he looks at me like that.
That is a love not distance or time can touch.

And even if...although NOT if because I would not live in that world...if that love would end I would always know that I was loved by a man. Story book/amazeballs/perfectly loved, by a real man.

This year has wreaked havoc on me in many ways..but the memories of past pain and shock is dimming. The only thing that remains is that this year i met Him..that alone is all worth it.

ILJ